That Smile
by Aurumite
Summary: There was the smile: broad, dazzling. Lyon made many pinched and worried faces, and illnesses often left him ashen, but he was, in truth, very handsome. "But it isn't enough, Eirika," he said. "Don't you see? It isn't enough."


_Notes: OKAY SO LOTS OF THINGS._

_1\. This is for a Tumblr prompter who wanted only Eirika/Lyon, because FE8 was doing that thing where it wrecks your goddamn heart to her. I was originally going to make it something fluffy and sweet that might still fit into canon, like an innocent first kiss in a meadow out of curiosity that they both are too embarrassed to tell Ephraim about later. And that would've been cool probably. But then I thought, "OR this could be more in the spirit of the game itself and be totally awful, vague, and reference Eirika's womanhood and budding sexuality an uncomfortable number of times." So we get angst and I'm sorry._

_2\. The lines in the last scene are taken from the game script. This whole thing was inspired by the fact that the writers deliberately put in something along the lines of "we told each other PRETTY MUCH everything", with the implication that even on Ephraim and Eirika's side there was a lot unsaid and perhaps even a bit of their own darkness._

_3\. I also wanted to include the mention of Lyon saving that little girl in Serafew because I totally missed the VERY WORST THING the first time I played-That the game ended the way it did, but IN ITS BEGINNING LYON WAS ABLE TO USE GRADO'S STONE FOR GOOD. Just UHG slay me right now._

_4\. The dialogue is CRAAAAAAP because there's so much junk in between; gestures and descriptions and things. I know. But to me as I wrote the gestures became far more important than the dialogue and it was important for me to juxtapose them and I don't have time to tinker around with doing that skillfully when I work this many hours of unpaid overtime._

* * *

Grado's library was still occupied even in the middle of the night. Just as Eirika had suspected.

She went to its doorway and paused for a moment. It seemed just as comfortable now as it did during the day, if much quieter. The sunlight that usually streamed through the windows was gone but replaced with cheerful, cozy orange candlelight. And while the usual scholars, priests, and mages had all retired, her best friend still remained, bent over his preferred desk by the far wall.

"Lyon?"

The room felt so soft, so full of well-thumbed and friendly books, that her voice didn't break the silence so much as slip through it and brush aside the hair falling into his eyes.

"Mm?" he said back agreeably.

Eirika approached. For a moment she felt self-conscious of being in her nightgown, realizing that they were alone, but he didn't lift his gaze from the page he was reading. It made her feel secure enough to stand directly behind him, bracing her hands on his shoulders so she could lean over and peer at his book too. It was all written in a language she didn't understand.

"You can read that?" she asked.

"Slowly. The alphabet is tricky to memorize, but once you know it the grammar is easy."

"How like you," she teased. His hair smelled like his spell room: woodsmoke, nutmeg, and something bitter she couldn't put a name to. She drew away.

"What are you doing awake, Eirika?"

"I had the suspicion you might be down here. You should go to bed, you know. Father MacGregor planned that trip for us tomorrow morning. As early as he could possibly make it, I think."

"You mother Ephraim often, but I didn't realize you'd start doing it to me."

Lyon finally straightened and turned a little in his chair to face her. He was smiling. There was something so gentle about it, so unabashedly affectionate, that Eirika returned it easily. Had he smiled that way when he saved the girl in Serafew, so badly burned that even healing staves had been unable to help her, with the magic he'd gleaned from the aura of Grado's sacred stone? Or had it been wider, brighter, more self-sure? She hoped to see that smile someday.

"You deserve to rest now more than ever," she said. "You've saved a life."

"Oh, no. It's just the beginning. It's only inspired me to work harder."

"A good night's rest, first, might be helpful."

He laughed then, something soft and deep that blended perfectly with the library's silence. "No, it's too ironic. How could you be the person asking me to stop for now when you're the person who inspired me to keep going, until I could succeed?"

"Me? Don't be silly. I know absolutely nothing of magic."

Spying her chance, Eirika leaned over his desk again, slipped a bit of parchment into the book to mark his place, and shut the heavy cover. He sighed but pushed himself up. Eirika was glad she'd decided to be forward. Lyon did look very tired.

"It was indeed you," he said, looking down at the closed text. "Your kindness is an enchantment all its own. Whenever I felt tired or frustrated, whenever I wanted to quit, I thought of how pleased you would be if I succeeded. If I could indeed work miracles with the stone's power, heal wounds and save lives. You...you and Ephraim both said you believe in me. I wanted to prove you right."

"And so you have." They were standing very close—so close Eirika's heart began to beat faster, though she still felt very comfortable. Lyon was a few inches taller than she was. He tilted his head as he studied her, finally taking note of what she was wearing, and she shivered as his warm gaze slid from her throat to her bare feet. His eyes didn't pry; he rather looked like he was worried about her being cold. "Lyon, I think it's so incredible. I can't even manage a simple healing staff, and here you are, working magic even Father MacGregor said was impossible."

There was the smile: broad, dazzling. Lyon made many pinched and worried faces, and illnesses often left him ashen, but he was, in truth, very handsome.

"But it isn't enough," he said, "don't you see? It isn't enough. You'll inspire me to such other heights."

"That's a lot of pressure," Eirika protested, trying to make light as her cheeks heated up. She cursed how easily she blushed and was glad Ephraim wasn't there to point it out as he so often did.

"No. You don't have to do a thing but be yourself. When I healed that girl, I wondered...had you ever suffered, in your childhood? When you were her age, her size and shape? Scraped knees, perhaps, a single fall from a horse? I doubt Ephraim and your father would have allowed any other harm to come to you. But if it had...the power existed to keep you safe. And it still exists. I can keep you protected from anything with this."

"I doubt I shall ever suffer more than my brother becoming too aggressive in a spar," said Eirika. "Even that hardly leaves a mark." Bruises were an expected result of fencing, but she had always been hardy and had never bruised easily.

"There are other tragedies that can befall a woman." His eyes were on her again, just for a short moment, tracing the very slight curve of her hip in a way that made her breath hitch before he looked at his desk again. "What of childbirth? It isn't easy. Many women die bringing their children into the world. And you...with your history, you might bear twins. What if I could keep you safe through that? What if I could make it absolutely painless? Perhaps even pleasurable?"

"You've certainly thought far ahead," Eirika managed. By now the burn in her cheeks was starting to hurt.

"Too far?"

"If...if it were possible, I...I would be very happy." She wasn't sure what she was feeling now. Touched. Bewildered. Overwhelmed by his kindness and sincerity. Gratitude and confusion were both dense in her lungs, churned up into a foam by the rapid pumping of her heart. He smiled that smile again.

"That's all I hope for."

"What about Ephraim?"

The smile dropped. "What about Ephraim?"

"He's my father's son. The crown prince. I hope that Renais will be at peace for generations, but...what if something happens? What if there is a conflict? He must go to fight with his men. He will be in much greater danger than I."

"If Ephraim ever needs my aid," Lyon promised, "you know that he shall have it."

"Oh, Lyon. We're so lucky to have met you."

Eirika reached for his hand. A friendly squeeze. Neither let go. After a long, thick moment, Lyon reached up to touch her face, fingertips brushing just under her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I've kept you up late."

"It's all right," she whispered. She watched his expression as his knuckles skimmed down her cheek, the edge of her shoulder, her waist, before his hand hovered and trembled and finally rested against her hip, so lightly she could hardly feel it. She rocked a little closer, wondering at the worry in his eyes.

"Eirika?" he asked.

"Yes?"

His lips were trembling too. For a brief, insane moment she wanted to press her own against them, and the thought frightened her.

"Nothing," he said finally. "I had a question I wanted to ask you earlier, but I've already forgotten it."

"To bed, then?"

"To bed."

They kept their hands tightly linked as they made their way through the dark. He squeezed her fingers once more before he let go, at the door to her room. They whispered swift goodnights and he left.

That night she dreamt of his gentle hand against her hip again, guiding her body against his while their lips met, softly at first, escalating until it felt like she was being devoured, until she was breathless and so dizzy that there were doubles of everything, two mouths on her, two sets of hands, two voices calling her their muse.

xXx

When she woke, it felt too much like magic. She had never had a dream so vivid.

Usually, she told Ephraim everything. She told Lyon everything. This time she didn't say a word to anyone. The dream never came again and the air never fizzed like a broken spell when she woke. She started to wonder if she had just been imagining things. A few weeks later, she and Ephraim left for Renais. Lyon never remembered the question he'd wanted to ask her.

xXx

"No!" Ephraim is shouting to the form before them. It's so familiar, just a little bit taller, rail-thin and pale but very handsome. If Eirika drew closer like it asked, its hair might smell like it used to. She would know and understand the way its long fingers might clutch hers.

But its smile is not at all the same.

"What amusing things come babbling out of your mouth," it says to Ephraim in its soft, tender voice. "You always thought of Lyon as weak, didn't you? Admit it."

"Lyon, Eirika, and I were friends!" Ephraim cries back, grip tight on his lance. "There were things we kept to ourselves, of course, but we shared so much!"

And Eirika realizes, then, watching the monster's lips, that she had been naïve.


End file.
